


You Can't; They're Immortal

by jayemgriffin



Series: Godhunter [4]
Category: Scion (Tabletop RPG)
Genre: Gen, TBD AU, TBD Dark!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 02:23:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10607334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayemgriffin/pseuds/jayemgriffin
Summary: Strange bedfellows is a colossal understatement.





	1. Patron Sinner

She’d given up on libraries. It was becoming more and more obvious that what she needed to find out wasn’t written down. Instead, she did what she’d always done best. She listened.

She spread out over the city, seeking out stories. She sat with old Irish men in dimly lit pubs, buying them drinks as they rambled on about that weird thing that happened back in the 40s, and the ancient myths of Celtic gods and warriors. She stood at kitchen sinks, washing dishes as old abuelitas told legends about the gods from back home in Mexico. She burned her tongue on fresh jerk chicken and conch fritters and laughed along with the chefs’ tales of Papa Legba and Erzulie-Freda. And she learned.

Half-unwillingly at first, she became attached to these people. Kay had been cautious around most other people, always suspicious. Mars didn’t want to admit it, but she loved people. She befriended vagrants, barflys, late-night clerks, and cleaning staff; the people whom no one noticed. She was one of them, after all.

Maybe it started when Lùz looked up from the kitchen table where she and Mars were swapping spooky stories while her kids played in the living room. She shrieked. “Ah! I have to leave, now, or I’ll never make the bus! I can’t be late for another shift!” She snatched up her bag and caught Mars’ eye. “Can you keep an eye on them? Just for a couple hours, okay? Mama will be home soon - I’m sure she’s just chatting. Romina, Ana, Mama has to go to work. Be good girls for Tia Marcia, okay?” And then she was gone, leaving the door and Mars’ mouth hanging open. (They were very good girls. The wicked dragon Tia Marcia was heroically slain by the allied forces of Barbie, Dora, and Dr. McStuffins many times.)

It could’ve started there. Or when Darius missed the last Orange Line and called her for a ride, too embarrassed to tell his mother that he’d lost track of time with his boyfriend. Possibly when the Chengs got an unfair eviction notice from a landlord; Mars recognized the name from one of Kay’s connections and… persuaded the man to reconsider.

It started at some point, anyway. It must have, because otherwise why would she be standing awkwardly in the bedoilied living room of Mrs. Glegocińska as the older woman practically sobbed in gratitude. She’d tried to dissuade her, explain that the few hundred dollars in gift cards wasn’t really that big of a deal, she’d just asked around, really she owed more thanks to the neighbors who had chipped in $20 and - 

“You are a blessing,” Mrs. Glegocińska interrupted. “You are a saint. Święty Juda.” She folded Mars’ hands in hers and pressed a prayer card on her. She left a little shell-shocked, but happy to have helped.

Somehow, it always got around to her if someone needed help - usually if someone was in truly dire straits. And somehow, she was always able to help. Not necessarily in the most tasteful ways (blackmail, she was learning, was amazingly effective), but she could always do something.

Of course, people talked. She did everything she could to discourage it, but the rumors only grew. Some called her Kay, because that’s the name they knew. Some called her Ginger, which was what Kay used to go by once upon a time. The creative ones and those prone to exaggeration called her the Dark Angel, the Guardian, and the Lady of Last Chances. Stupid names, really, but the one that stuck was Mrs. Glegocińska’s - Juda, St. Jude, who granted hopeless prayers.

Well, she’d been called worse.


	2. Hello, Operator

It was a little worrying that the cult found her before she found them, but then, they were recruiting. She was sitting in a basement somewhere on the North Side, across from a woman in her mid-forties, who had introduced herself as Agartha. She was plain, and simply dressed, but her eyes had an unsettling light in them. About a dozen young women stood against the wall behind her, watching. That was just creepy. 

“You have been seeking the gods,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“I have,” Mars answered. She didn’t mention why.

“You have been seeking indiscriminately.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that.” Agartha acknowledged her statement with a graceful gesture.

“Then you have not felt a call to serve any one in particular.”

“True enough.”

“He knows. He said to tell you that He will not call you daughter, but you are welcome to join Him regardless. Blood ties cannot bind Him. He is the lord of the outcasts, of the misunderstood, of those whose time has not yet come. He rules the shadows and the half-breeds. He is fire and magic and the chaos before the world.”

“I’m sure he is,” Mars said. “I’m not interested. It doesn’t look like you need me anyway.”

Agartha gave a small laugh. “It is true that we have been fortunate of late. He has experienced something of a resurgence, and many have found their way to Him, albeit through... less traditional channels. That is of no importance.”

“Then why did you ask me here?”

“You have been seeking Him. Do you wish to find Him or not?”

She exhaled. “I do. Well, I’d like to contact him somehow. To talk, if that’s even possible.”

“He may grant any number of requests. It can be arranged.”

“I thought he was imprisoned.”

“He is, or He was, or He will be. It does not matter. If you know how to call Him,” Agartha said, “He will come.”

That settled it. “Then tell me how.” Agartha smiled.


	3. The Liesmith

Everything seemed to circle back to that cafe, she mused as she walked in. He was sitting tucked away in a booth, his back against the wall. If she hadn’t been looking for him, she would have missed him. His face was sharp, with shrewd gray eyes, and he could have been anywhere from eighteen to sixty.

“I take it you got my message.”

“Straight to business, hm? I can appreciate that.” He took a long drink of his coffee. “Please, sit down. Yes, I got your message. Very intriguing.” He mused for a few moments. “You know, it’s a real pity she got to you first; I could use someone with your ambition.” She didn’t move, and he gestured at the chair across from him. “Really, please sit. Can I offer you a drink?” A small silver flask appeared from his coat.

“No, thank you.” She did, however, take the offered seat.

“So. Why did you call on me?”

“You should know why.”

“I believe I do, but I’d like to hear you say it. Come on, humor an old god for a moment.”

She clenched her jaw. This man - this thing - set her teeth on edge, and she didn’t want to cooperate, but she needed information. “Fine. You’re one of the only pe- entities who’ve done what I want to do.” He gestured for her to go on. “You’ve killed a god.” She frowned slightly. “Or you will. I’m not entirely clear on that, but it’s beside the point.”

“That’s true enough. It’s not an easy thing to do, and fortunately - or unfortunately - I was able to find something of a loophole.” His eyes narrowed. “You do realize that it’s not going to be that easy for the rest of us.”

“Of course not,” she answered stubbornly. “If it were easy, someone else would have done it.”

“Also true,” he chuckled. “Well, you know about Baldur. You might even be able to get to him before I do; I certainly look forward to seeing you try. May I ask about your plans for everyone else?”

Her jaw was going to ache for days after this. “You can ask,” she bit out.

He raised his eyebrows in faint surprise. “You don’t have one, do you? That’s why you’re planning on going after the easy ones first. Not a bad plan, but there really aren’t many of those. Don’t tell me you’re simply going to try to gun us down once you run out of ideas?” The nearly unreadable flicker in her eyes told him everything he needed to know, and he sighed. “Well, I’m not sure what else I should have expected from one of the Tuatha.” He took another drink from the flask, calculating, then leaned across the table towards her. “My dear, overt violence will only get you so far. You’re clearly courageous, but valor is not going to be enough. You’re going to have to think.”

It seemed impossible that she could have become more guarded than she had been when she walked in, but she was. She had started out with absolutely no trust in him, and it was rapidly decreasing by the second. “If you say so.”

“I do. I thought you’d come to me for advice.” He got up. “I like you, and I think we could work well together. Someday.” A small white rectangle appeared on the table. “Call me when you can tell me where gods come from. Then we can really get started.” She blinked, and he was gone.


End file.
